


The Post

by Cherryd



Series: The Call [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherryd/pseuds/Cherryd
Summary: My original epilogue to "the call"





	The Post

Ignis stood in the hallway, facing the same door he and his closest friends had been staring at for hours now, just waiting for something, anything to happen. It was early in the morning, unnaturally early. And the hospital was frighteningly quiet, as it usually became when the air was thick with death.

He looked away for a few seconds to glance at the woman to his left. Aranea had wrapped a maternal arm around a crying Iris, shushing the younger girl comfortingly. While Ignis watched them, he was hit with yet another wave of gratitude that his wife was here, by his side, alive and breathing and real. He reached down and grabbed Aranea's free hand and held it with his, thanking the six when he felt hers squeeze his supportingly.

It was then the door finally opened and a somber Gladio came out with his head down and eyes slightly bloodshot. He looked up at his childhood friend and nodded for Ignis to follow him so they could talk privately about what had happened in that room. Ignis obliged, giving aranea's hand a small kiss before letting her go, and followed his large friend to the end of the hallway.

"He still won't let her go. He won't say anything, he won't respond to questions, he's not even crying anymore. He's starting to scare the staff."

"Well, I think we all ought to have expected him of all people to take this loss hard."

"It's been over a day, Iggy! She's starting to...." The usually blunt shield trailed off, not wanting to say it, and Ignis didn't need him to. They both looked down at the ground, remembering how just days before they had seen you, and talked to you, not knowing it would be the last time.

"I'll try to speak with him." The advisor finally whispered as he made his way back to the room and opened the door.

Ignis hadn't been inside since the morning before, when Prompto had first called them to tell them you had passed. His blond friend was still there, sitting with his back to the door, still holding your hand in his, leaning over what used to be you. Ignis knew to expect this, and expect the thick, almost black blood trailing out of your body, the hauntingly beautiful smile frozen on your face, the bluish cold tinge on your fingertips and lips. What he hadn't expected was the smell, the underlining stench of decay that had filled the unventilated room, burning his nostrils. The normally composed man swallowed quietly to force down the bile that threatened his throat, before he took a few steps into the room.

Prompto must have heard him approach, the hospital was so quiet, and his shoes echoed against the tiled floor, but the forlorn man didn't move or acknowledge his longtime friend. Not even as Ignis rested his hand supportively on his freckled shoulder and sat next to him. It had been almost an entire day since Ignis last saw him, and at the time, the wound was so new the blond had been inconsolable. Hours ago, when his friends had first arrived, Prompto was sobbing uncontrollably, threatening the hospital staff when they tried to remove you, begging someone to help you, begging you to give him another chance. But now, he was just a shadow of the man he was before, staring at but not seeing you.

Ignis would have thought him catatonic if it weren't for the fact that every few seconds, his face would twitch into a snarl before falling into a flat, empty expression. Ignis understood why the nurses would have been afraid of the usually kind, caring, playful blond. Prompto looked like a man on the edge of insanity, lost in whatever hell he was trapped in inside his mind and barely keeping himself together.

"Prompto?" Ignis whispered softly, trying to slowly drag his friend out of his inner turmoil. But the blond didn't respond. He didn't do anything but continue to stare at you, so Ignis tried again, as he reached out for Prompto's hands covering yours. "Prompto? You have to let them take her away." He said gently but with authority, thinking maybe if he didn't give his friend an option, he would just listen. But still, the blond stared emotionlessly.

"Prompto, it's time to let go."

* * *

_This isn't real. She's coming back. She's not dead. She's just sleeping. She loves me. She's going to forgive me. We're going to get married. This isn't real. She's just sleeping._

Prompto repeated this to himself over and over and over again. Refusing to believe what he saw, rejecting reality with every fiber of his being. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Just days before he was with you. He was holding you. He was watching you sleep. You had looked so peaceful, like you did now. He could have that again. He just needed to wait for you to wake up. But even as he told himself lie after lie, even as he forced himself to ignore the smell of blood in the air, he couldn't deny the feeling of emptiness that consumed him when he looked at you. How hollow your beautiful smile was on your face. It just didn't feel like you, but it had to be. It just had to be.

"Prompto. You have to let them take her away... Prompto, it's time to let go." The blond, who was only mildly aware that he wasn't alone, ignored his friend, still trying to find "you" in the person that lay before him.

That is until Ignis started slowly peeling Prompto's fingers away from your cold, frozen fist. He had managed to unwrap both of Prompto's hands from yours and was gently pushing the gunslinger away, when suddenly, the blond woke up, and before Ignis could react, Prompto was pointing the barrel of his Hyper Magnum between the spectacled man's eyes, pointblank. "Don't. Touch. Her." Prompto's voice quivered, not from fear or guilt, but from restraint, as his blue eyes narrowed, piercing Ignis with all the feelings of rage and abandonment he hid. 

Prompto loved his friends, and would never purposefully hurt anyone. But grief-stricken and deranged, Prompto couldn't think straight. The man in front of him wasn't a friend, he wasn't Ignis. He was just part of the nightmare, just someone else that was trying to separate the two of you. Prompto stared unblinkingly at Ignis, his normally warm blue eyes darkened to a cold, black color. Daring his friend to test him. He let his fury blind him, revelling in his anger, glad to finally feel something other than despair. Ignis had no choice but to slowly and gently place your fist down on the bed in an effort to defuse the situation and it was only when your hand was completely free that Prompto blinked, and realized what he was doing.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Ignis." Prompto quickly unsummoned his weapon, momentarily coming to his senses, before letting himself fall back into his fantasy. "I... I just don't want anyone to touch her while she's sleeping." His voice was hoarse, barely even a whisper, as he looked down at your peaceful face.

From the corner of his eye he could see Ignis ready himself, prepared in case Prompto lashed out at him again. "Prompto.... This isn't her anymore. She's not there. She. is. gone. You understand that ... don't you, Prompto?" Ignis asked hesitantly as he forced reality's harsh truths upon the new father. Prompto could feel his eyes start to well as he shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't true. It just wasn't. His mind, fractured and clouded from the lack of sleep and unsurmountable agony he felt, had let him deny everything in front of him, masking the truth of the matter behind a dream. But he could feel the veil of confusion that protected him start to lift, and Prompto saw it for the first time. This wasn't you.

"Then...where is she? Where did she go? Why did she leave?!" Prompto started screaming at Ignis. As if it were his fault you were gone, as if yelling at him would do something to bring you back. "Why does everyone I love always leave?!" He demanded. His voice started to crack as his anger gave way to desperation. "Please, Ignis. Help me find her. I have to bring her back, I promised I would take care of her, that she would be okay. I can't let her down again, she'll never forgive me. Please Ignis! Help me! I need help." Prompto had gotten up and had taken Ignis by the collar, begging the strategist. If anyone could help it was him. He always had the answers.

But Ignis only stood helplessly before his friend, having no way to ease his suffering. And the devastated blond knew then, there was nothing left to do. Nothing left to say. Nothing.

He collapse back into his chair next to your bed and wept unabashedly as acceptance spread through like ice in his veins and he let go of his companion. He sobbed for minutes or hours, he couldn't tell, but eventually he could hear Ignis ring in the nurse, letting her know it was safe to finally remove your body from the room and wash away any evidence you had ever been there. Knowing he only had but moments left with you, Prompto quickly dried his eyes so he could see you clearly, choosing to remember not what you looked like now, but the you he saw the first time you met.

Saying his last goodbye as the nurses walked in, the broken man leaned down over your bed, stroking his thumb across your forehead, and whispered a soft "I love you always, beautiful", giving you one final kiss before you were taken away for good.

It was only after they had left, when you were truly gone, that the finality of it all sunk back in and he looked back up at Ignis completely lost. He wanted it to stop. The endless pain, grief, and numbness he felt, and the constant guilt he carried with him since that night. You were the only one who took it away, who made it better, and now you were gone. And he was all alone. "Wha-what am I supposed do without her, Iggy? I needed her. I need her. I can't go back to how it was. I can't live without her. I don't want to." The freckled man's face and tone were ominously calm. After all, he didn't have to, did he. He could be with you again. He _wanted_ to be with you again. It would be so quick, so easy, easier than living the rest of his life in this world without you. THAT he couldn't do, he wouldn't do.

"And yet, you must, Prompto." Ignis commanded, as if he knew what thoughts fluttered beneath the surface of those ice blue eyes. Ignis stepped closer to him, resting both hands on his freckled shoulders, shaking him firmly to snap some sense into him. "You have to. It's no longer just about you and what you want. There is a life here that now relies solely on you. She needs you, Prompto. Your daughter needs you. Please, let me take you to her."

Before Prompto could answer, Ignis started leading him out of the room, away from death, and through the twists and turns of the hospital. Prompto instantly felt ashamed for what he wanted, for forgetting about his responsibility to his daughter in his grief, for the nagging thought in his head that told him if you had just never gotten pregnant, you would still be here. And as the two neared their destination, his shame turned into fear.

He would never be a good father. What kind of father has thoughts like this? What if he couldn't love her because of what happened? What if he ended up being cruel like his father was? He didn't want that, he wanted to love her, wanted his daughter to have all the love in their world. It's what she deserved. But what if he failed her like he failed you?

Ignis slowed to a stop in front of Prompto, and silently opened the entrance to a new wing of the hospital, waiting for the blond to go in. But instead the conflicted father stood in front of it, frozen, looking back and forth between his friend and the sign on the door as new tears pooled in his eyes. "Ignis, I- I don't deserve her. I'm not good enough for her." But the advisor only smiled softly as he gently pushed Prompto inside before closing the door behind the blond, giving his friend a minute of privacy.

Prompto found himself in a room with a few rows of small, clear pods, most of which were empty except one in the middle of the room. He whimpered softly to himself as he stumbled toward the center only stopping when he stood over the pod labeled 'Baby Girl Argentum.' And suddenly, as he stared down at his sleeping daughter, all his fears of not being able to love her, all his worries about what kind of father he'd be, all his guilt for having failed you again disappeared. He found in her all the answers he had been searching for earlier. This is where you went. This why you left. You had given her everything you had, poured your life into hers. To give your daughter a chance. And she was everything he had been looking for, a part of you still with him. Prompto slowly reached into the incubator and he held his daughter's tiny hand delicately between his fingers. And despite all the pain still bleeding from his heart, he smiled through his tears as he watched his daughter dream, silently vowing to you that he would always be here to love and protect this little piece of you you left behind.

* * *

Prompto was putting the finishing touches on the dinner he had made for two, standing in the same exact spot over the stove where you had once, in the same run down apartment you had lived. The sun was just starting to set over Lestallum, casting a warm shadow, lighting up the small kitchenette and living room that, after over half a decade, remained untouched. Except for the new pictures that now littered almost every flat surface of the small apartment, all of which starred his absolute favorite person in the whole wide world and all of the memories from the life he had built for them. It wasn't a luxurious life by any means. He had been offered a position in the Citadel to work along side Ignis and Gladio (who had already moved to the crown city), but he couldn't bring himself to leave Lestallum, couldn't leave the only home his daughter had ever known, the last home you had known. Instead he chose to live a quiet life with his baby, taking on random photography jobs here and there so he could be home with her most nights. He couldn't afford to treat her like the princess she was, but he was happy, she was happy, and that was enough for him.

With that said, the last few weeks had been trying for Prompto, to say the least. Having only been able to spend a few days with his best friend, learning that in order to bring back the light Noct would sacrifice his life, had almost been too much for Prompto to bear and a part of the blond was sure, if it hadn't been for his daughter waiting for him at home, he might have given up during that final battle in Insomnia. But 3 weeks later, here he was, finally able to look at the setting sun without tearing up thinking about everyone he ever had to say goodbye too. He tried to hide his grief from his baby, but she, like her mother, seemed to have a sixth sense for when his happy-go-lucky smile was forced, and as young as she was, she couldn't understand why Daddy was sad or why he cuddled her extra tight at night, but still did her best to cheer him up anyway. Asking him questions about her uncle she never met, making Prompto remember and hold onto the good times. He technically was the one taking care of her, but more often than not, he felt like he needed her more than she needed him. She was his guardian angel, always giving him the strength to carry on, filling him with an inner peace that he had only felt with one other person.

Satisfied with his culinary creation(spaghetti with sauce from a can), he picked up two plates, one smaller than the other, and brought them over to the rickety, old table where his daughter sat without a care in the world, legs swinging freely, and surrounded by coloring pencils and her carbuncle statue Noct had left for Prompto when he learned his best friend was a dad.

"Come on Angela, time for dinner. You can draw while we eat, but you gotta finish the whole thing, okay?" He smiled and placed a loving kiss on the top of her head as she picked up her masterpiece to move it aside a bit. Ever since he had come back, she had gotten into the habit of drawing a picture almost every day, which was probably part of her attempt to cheer him up (and it worked). As he popped the plate down next to her, his smile widened when he saw her squinting critically at her work before her face lit up and she continued coloring in a building, staying mostly in the lines.

Prompto sat down next to her and just watched her color as they ate. He was absolutely smitten with her, he couldn't believe it was possible to love someone so unconditionally, but here she was, his perfect angel. He started thinking how she was too beautiful for her own good and worrying about how many boys he would have to chase away when she got older. It was quiet moments like this that Prompto realized just how much she looked like you. How she had your hair, your nose, your laugh, but then his freckles, blue eyes and lopsided smile. She perfectly captured the best parts of you both, and everyday he fell more and more in love with her, and more and more in love with you for giving him her. And it was quiet moments like this when he thought of you the most.

"Whatcha drawing today?" Prompto asked, looking over her shoulder at her work of art. As usual, it was a picture of the two of them; this time at the new chocobo post, as only a five year old could draw. They were in the center sharing some food together, then she had accidentally drawn herself again but smaller over to the side with some chocobo chicks, and even had another dark haired person racing a chocobo over at the tracks. Everything was disproportionate and cartoony, but Prompto didn't care. To him it really was a masterpiece and he couldn't stop himself from gushing proudly over it.

"Oh look! You got yourself in the chick pen over to the side... and the race tracks over there...and the barn. This is such a good picture Angel! My baby is an artist!!" Prompto squealed.

Angela smiled to herself as she ate the food her dad had made, still swinging her legs and glowing in pride, hoping her drawing was "refrigerator" good (they always were and Prompto was starting to run out of magnets and space to hold them all up). Prompto ate silently next to her, turning his attention back to the picture to study it more, when an odd sense of deja vu hit him. When the chocobo post reopened, they had renamed it and rearranged the attractions since they got to start from scratch, so the chocobo feeding station was now closer to the nursery as opposed to the race tracks. Everything in the picture was in the wrong location, but still looked so familiar. And the more he stared, the more he realized this picture was laid out like the old outpost was, before it had closed. Even the sign Angela had drawn for the building said Wiz's on it, and he didn't remember telling her that's what it used to be called. "Hey Angel, where is this? The chocobo farm daddy took you last weekend?"

Angela shook her head as she spooned in more food for herself before responding simply "No, it's the one from my dream." Prompto frowned at her answer. How would she have dreamed this? Maybe she had found some of his old pictures he kept tucked away in the closet, the ones that were too painful for him to look at. Maybe that was it, but...

"Daddy, what was mommy like?" She asked, blindsiding her father.

"Wha-what? What did you say, sweetie?"

"What was mommy like?" She stopped her coloring and looked up expectantly at her father. It wasn't the first time she had asked about you. You had naturally come up a few times in Angela's short life. Still, it always caught Prompto off guard when you did. She didn't ask him often, sensing how much it hurt him to talk about you. But the blond knew the older she got, the more curious she would be and since he had come back, she started asking him a weird variety of questions, like how you met, if you liked to dance, if you liked animals. And even though it still ached to think about you, Prompto stood up and picked Angela up to sit her on his lap before taking her seat so she could keep drawing as he thought of how to describe how amazing you were to a 5 year old. "Your mommy was...very strong, and tough, and brave. She could even beat up uncle Gladio if she wanted to. And she was kind, and beautiful, and funnier than anyone I know. She reminds me a lot of you." He nuzzled her face affectionately, making her laugh.

Prompto smiled as Angela's laughter died down and she went back to her drawing. "But what did she look like, Daddy? Does she look like me except with different colored eyes? That closed when she laughed a lot?"  

Prompto's blinked a few times, chilled by the accuracy of her description of you. She definitely had been rifling through the closet and found his pictures of you. She was smart, like you, and could figure things out on her own. That must have been what happened. That had to be it. "Uh, yeah... yeah. she looked a lot like you. Like an angel. Only maybe a little taller." He joked nervously, unable to shake the uneasy feeling his little girl's questions caused. 

"But not as tall as Auntie Iris?" Angela asked, immediately wiping off whatever semblance of a smile he had left. "And did she liked dull-say-day-let-chay?" She stared at him, her blue eyes searching his for confirmation.

"What did you just say?" Prompto's whisper was barely audible over the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"Dull-say-day-let-chay" she pronounced the foreign words slowly to make sure she was saying it right, as she pointed to the center of her picture where Prompto and she were sharing food.

"How do you know what that is? Did...did Daddy say it in his sleep? Is that what you and Daddy are eating here?" Prompto pointed to the same spot as her. She giggled softly again, reminding him of someone else that made his heart ache.

"No Daddy! That's not me! THAT's me!" She corrected, moving his finger over to the smaller version of herself next to the chick pen. "THAT's the lady from my dreams." Prompto's throat felt dry as he watched her point back to the person next to him in her drawing. "She took me to see the chocobos and bought me ice cream. She said she wished you could come too so she could share her dull say day let chay with you because she doesn't want you to be sad anymore. But Uncle Noctis doesn't know how to do that."

Prompto could feel tears start to sting in his eyes, but he fought to keep them at bay. Fought to keep his voice steady, so he wouldn't worry his all too intuitive daughter. "Uncle Noct was in your dream too?" Angela nodded slowly while she colored away, missing the way her father tensed up next to her.

"She always come with Uncle Noctis" Angela pointed her little finger to the man racing the chocobo on the tracks. "Sometimes they take me to the chocobo post, or to the beach. Or a field full of pretty purple flowers and she lets me run around and she plays with me. One time she made Uncle Noctis take me to a carnival with chocobos and moogles and he bought me cakes. And they always tell me funny stories about you and uncle Gladio and Ignis. And she gives me lots of hugs and kisses. And...."

"How long have you been having these dreams, Angela?" Prompto interrupted his daughter as his eyes zeroed in on the drawings that covered the fridge in complete disbelief. The picture of the Prompto and Angela fighting a coeurl, the picture of her in a dress the color of her eyes dancing with Gladio, the picture of her playing with a dog he had never seen. Were they not of Angela? Were they...were they of you? Of Prompto's first hunt with you, of you and gladio dancing at Ignis's wedding, of that dog you had growing up that you loved so much?

Prompto hadn't realized how serious and almost angry his voice sounded until he saw his sweet, beautiful angel look up at him guiltily, thinking she must have done something wrong. "Since you brought the sun back, Daddy." Her voice was small as she put her coloring pencil down to eat her dinner. Trying her best to be good so she didn't get a time out.

Prompto quickly snapped to his senses when he realized he was scaring her and immediately pulled her closer, wrapping his arms protectively around her little body. "It's okay Angel. It's okay. Daddy's sorry for yelling. You're not in trouble, baby. Daddy just .... wants to know. What else happens? What does the lady say?

"She...she asks if you still take too many pictures. And if you ever learned to cook for me. She says she loves us a lot. And that you were right about Uncle Noctis. She says he's her bestest friend in the whole wide world, besides me." Angela beamed with pride, but deflated quickly when she turned to find Prompto tearing up.

"It's okay baby. Don't worry about Daddy, okay? These aren't sad tears." He quickly reassured his sweet angel of a daughter, not wanting her to stop. "What else does the lady say?"

Angela hesitated at first, not wanting to make her dad cry anymore. But then he gave her his sunniest smile, and she knew it wasn't fake, knew he meant it. "She asked if you are happy. And said she didn't want to make you sad anymore because she loves you. Is... is she my Mommy, Daddy? Do you miss mommy?" Prompto saw his daughter's face fall, worried that just because he was sad sometimes, it meant that he wasn't also happy. He smiled to himself as he tenderly kissed his daughter's forehead, knowing nothing could be farther from the truth.

"I do Angel, but never as much when I'm with you." Prompto responded honestly, hugging his perfect little girl for a good long while before he put her down in her seat and walked over to the fridge to take down her older drawings to bring back over to the table.

"Now angel, can you do daddy a favor? Can you tell me more about these too?"

That night, the two of them talked annd talked and talked about you. Going over all the dreams she'd had, remembering all the memories you had shared, and laughing at every pictures Prompto had of you. And for the first time since you had passed, Prompto didn't feel pain when he thought of you. Or regret when he looked at his photos of you. All he felt was you, in that moment with them. With your daughter. And he was reminded of what he knew the first time he saw Angela after you had gone, but had forgetten over the years. That you were never really gone. That a piece of you was still with her, and still with him. And would be forever.

Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness, I had like ADHD when writing this because dear god did anyone else freak the fuck out over Prompto's dlc trailer! I mean good lord!


End file.
